


Awakenings

by akbroeka



Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: Ancient Rome, Crossover, Gay Male Character, Londinium, M/M, Male Friendship, POV Male Character, Resurrection, TARDIS - Freeform, Time Travel, male/male love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 17:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10949574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akbroeka/pseuds/akbroeka
Summary: What lengths might UNIT and the government go to in order to lure Captain Jack back to earth?   And what lengths might Captain Jack go to to save a man he loves?





	1. Chapter 1

     Fifty years after Ianto Jones died in the arms of his boss and lover, Captain Jack Harkness, a victim of a deadly virus released by the alien 456 (Four-Five-Six), scientists in a newly revived Torchwood, working with UNIT, draw his spirit out of the ether, containing  it within an alien artifact. Using his DNA and a combination of top secret human tech and alien tech they re-create his body and grow it to the age he was at his death, twenty five.  Into this vessel his spirit is restored.   The purpose for the time, effort and expense?    For the years and manpower and danger?  
     Bait.   
     To draw Captain Jack Harkness back within their grasp.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Understanding

     Ianto Jones sat on his bunk, back pressed against the wall and stared at the door that was the only entrance in and out of this, his cell. They had moved him here weeks ago. He didnt know why and they wouldnt tell him. The information flow was one way, it always had been. He was not allowed to ask questions. Or, he could ask but they wouldnt answer him so there was no point. They told him what they wanted him to know when they wished him to know it and that was all. They kept saying they wanted him to remember, that it would be best for him to remember in his own time. They provided occasional bits and snippits, to encourage his memory, they said. And to an extent they were right. 

     At first he didnt understand what they meant, or what they wanted. He had no memory of his past. Now he remembered waking up, cold and in pain, weak and almost unable to move, his body uncoordinate and useless, mind a maelstrom of confusion. A babe almost. He hadnt known his own name. He hadnt even known how to read and thinking was difficult.   
They, the doctors, had assured him he would be fine, that he had been in an accident but was recovering well and that previous memories and abilities would come back to him gradually. Back then he had stayed in a hospital room.

     He had no idea how long he had been there. Months maybe. No one had come to visit him. He remained there, alone but for when medical personel came about. He hadnt even known to ask about family or friends then. After months of isolation in that hospital room, his distress over his blank mind growing worse, months of sometimes horribly unpleasant testing, they had finally told him his name. 

     Ianto Jones, or that was what they told him. That was all they told him. But they had been right. Memories of sorts did begin to return. He remembered how to read, he remembered...well he began to remember a great many skills he had, and he remembered how to think, to reason. That had returned rather suddenly one night as he lay awake in the dark. Self awareness...of a sort. At least the name Ianto felt right, even if he couldnt remember a thing about his past life. He knew he could read, that he read often, that he was a crack shot with a gun, that he coul dance and knew the names of two dozen different types of tea, and he knew how to dress well. Things like that. He just didnt know why he knew these things. He didnt know how he had learned them.   
 

    Eventually, after he had not just revealed some of his returned memories, but had demonstrated several of his returned abilities, they had moved him.   That move had been to a nicer room with a comfortable  bed, a desk and even a television on which he had been allowed to watch movies occasionally.   If he remembered a the name of a movie it would appear shortly in his viewing cue on the television.  They fed him more clues as well, especially as things seemed to come back to him more often.  Most clues or memory  prompts as they called them, came in the form of pictures.   They showed him a picture of a house and of a dog and vague,  disjointed dreams of a childhood haunted him.   When he dreamed of a faceless couple he was shown pictures of a man and a woman and finally one of them with a small boy in their arms.   That very night memories of his mum and dad came back like a fall of water.   Those memories he hung onto in private for a long time.   They had punished him for that when they found out.  

    He swallowed and shivered at that and looked at the cell he was now in.   They had put him in a worse place than this that time and he had been there for an enternity it seemed.  But at least he knew why.   They had been harsher after that as well.   More tests, pushing him harder, challenging him, demanding new memories he often didnt have to give, threatening him.   Later memories had come, though.  Vauge and  disjointed, seeming to belong to someone else, not to him.

     He remembered more of himself, though.  He increasingly felt more like himself.   He discovered he enjoyed art and had a fairly eclectic taste in music.   Details of modern life became more real to him and he remembered not only that he hated to fly but why.    He recalled sex and that he enjoyed the company of both women and men.  And by then he dutifully told them everything he remembered.  Almost.  The one thing he held close, still more a vague dream but worth risking punishment for, were dreams of a dark, rogueish man in a long coat.   A tall man with dark ginger hair and deep blue eyes and a rogues grin. That some of those memories included the man snarling at him as he held a gun to his head disturbed him but not enough for him to let the doctors know he had remembered the man. Recently the name 'Jack' had come to him and with it a flood of familiar longing and even more familiar arrousal. 

     Ianto looked around at the cell he had been moved to just days before. Maybe they had figured out he was holding something back? Unless he had said something in his sleep, he wasnt sure how they could know, but here he was. This tiny cold room with the cement floor and white walls and no televison. There had been no more tests since they moved him. They brought him food and water but no one spoke to him. Strangely now his dreams were filled with more and more fragments of what he recognized now as memories, even if they did seem disconnected from him. He just wished he knew what they were up to. Who they were and what they wanted with him. Some of his memories had to do with his own death and he knew that had to be wrong since he was here, very much alive. But if felt real. Very real. As real as the other memories that came back to him. Which only confused him further. He wished they would answer him, tell him what was going on, why he was treated like a prisoner and not a patient. 

     Ianto had begun to doze. Sleep frightened him and he had no way of knowing what time it was. He gave in when he couldnt stay awake any longer. Times like now. Just as he began to slip down into sleep the door of his cell swung open and a man he hadnt met yet walked in with a chair. The man was Asian, Chinese maybe, short and dark and unsmiling. He carried in a chair which he sat facing the bed.

     "Do not move Mr. Jones. I wish only to provide you information. You are not required or desired to speak. Just listen. The information I am about to provide you will not be palatable to you. That is regretable, but we do not care." He sat down and stared at Ianto. "Ianto Jones. We had hoped more of your background would come back to you by this pount, but we have come to the consensus that you have regained enough memory to proceed with our program." His eyes focused on Ianto like black lasers. "Your name is Ianto Jones. You once worked for secret very powerful extra-government organization called Torchwood. You worked under a man by the name of Jack Harkness. Captain Jack Harkness.  This," he waved broadly at Ianto, "all of this was accomplished for one purpose only.  To lure Jack Harkness back to earth.   Combining human advances in technology with captured alien technology we have accomplished excellent intergallactic broadcast capablities.  We have been broadcasting your name and picture for over a year now and we think our end is in sight.  He will come for you, we are certain, because he loves you.  Or once loved.  Fifty years is a long time.  We hope he will come out of curiosity if nothing else, just to see if you truely live."  The man smiled, a cold expression that did not meet his eyes.  He leaned toward Ianto slightly. 

     "We resurrected you, Ianto Jones," he continued, "We used your DNA to create a new body and we used alien technology to break into the ether and capture your spirit.  Together  we have re-made you - fifty years after you died in Jack Harkness arms.  And we did this solely to capture the Captain.   You are our bait to capture your erstwhile lover.  There are many things about him we wish to study, most specifically his immortality.   And you are our means to that end."

    With that he stood and picked up his chair as Ianto stared at him in open mouthed horror.  "Enjoy the time you have left.  Once we have Jack Harkness your usefullness will be at an end."  On that note he left, the door swinging shut with a ringing clang as Ianto continued to stare in blank horror.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto renewed, trapped in existential horror.

Death almost seemed preferable.  Almost.   Ianto couldn't sleep.  He couldn't be comfortable.   Even if they had brought him food he wasn't sure he could eat let alone keep it down.  Where he had to been hungry before, he now found even the thought of food left him nauseous. The loathing he felt for his own body...no, _this_ body, this _thing_ that looked like him but left him feeling as if he had awakened in a strangers home, eradicated all other emotion. _His_ body had died and decayed five decades ago. This thing he inhabited now wasn't his. And yet...it was. It looked like him and it walked like him and sounded like him and it was beginning to _remember_ things as if those memories were its own.  


That was the worst thing.  Remembering the things that had happened to him - but not in this body. Ianto pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, fighting the urge to claw them out. He _was_ remembering, though. Now that they didnt seem to care if he did or not, he remembered. Ianto thought of Jack the most often now, and the marlstrom of emotion that brought about. The confusion of love, desire and pissed off fury - just like...then. He wondered where Jack was and what he was doing. What had happened to him after the 459 debacle. Jack had sacrificed a lot, made some choices they had all found difficult to accept, and in the end death had separated them. Him. Death had taken _him_. 

Jack couldn't die, the bastard. He lived with his choices and his pain forever. What had Jack done after he had died from the 459 virus?   That Jack was alive Ianto had no doubt.  Maybe he had found his Doctor.  The thought brought a stab of pain even though he had never had any illusions about who or what Jack was.  He had had Jacks heart, or a significant piece of it, and had accepted that as it was given. Fifty years was along time, though.  As much as it hurt, Ianto hoped Jack hadn't been alone in those years.  Knowing Jack, the man had stayed busy, of course, but Ianto hoped he had found someone, even if it hurt to think of it. 

Ianto eventually rolled to his side and curled up on the cement floor where he lay. The struggle not to fall apart in front of the cameras that watched him had exhausted him. Time had grown endless. Left without food or water, no toilet, no blanket, no watch, no way to clean himself. It seemed they had forgotten him entirely, caring little if he suffered. He slept off and on, more and more on as it was the only way to escape the hunger that knawed at his stomach, or the growing stench of both his own body and his prison. 

There was no way to know how much time passed.  No one came and Ianto gradually began to understand they meant for him to die if Jack didnt take the bait.  Because Jack was the reason for all...this. That is what they had told him. They meant to lure Jack back. Ianto doubted the success of the plan. Fifty years and it seemed certain Jack had moved on and forgotten all about him. Yet he was here. He was their tool. Bait. If the plan didnt work he was no longer useful to them. They had given him, this, life and they would take that life just as easily. Ianto expected to die. 

Which brought up a whole new conundrum.   As horrified as he was by this new existance in a body that was not his originally - did he really want to die?    Death was inevitable by the natural order of things of couse.   It always seemed if one managed to cheat death, the Universe or Fate or what have you managed to even the score eventually, sometimes sooner than later.   One always seemed to pay for cheating fate.  As when a person escapes death in an auto accident only to die slowly and painfully with a horrible disease.   Or when a soldier escapes death by an IED attack when everyone else dies but spends the rest of his life an amputee at best or brain damaged at worst.    
  

    Look at Jack, for example.   Due to a strange alien twist in his life he cheated death repeatedly, unable to die.    And he paid for that dearly, over and over.   People - and aliens - had literally hunted him down specifically because he couldn't die and had subjected him to repeated horrific deaths just to see if he resurrected and if he did so, how.   A fate Jack couldnt escape.   They studied him, like a rat in a lab.  That these people, this new Torchwood, if the white lab coat man was telling the truth, almost certainly meant to do that exact thing to Jack once again if they caught him, did not sit well with Ianto.  Not that what he thought mattered.  To anyone.  He was alone, dying of starvation and dehydration in a tiny, dark, stinking cell, himself little more than a lab rat.  One they had anandoned to Fate.  Disposable.

An interminable time later, when the door to his cell rattled as someone inserted a key, it barely registered in Ianto's mind. He was numb. His brain - _this_ brain - that had just barely begun to work, was failing. Little about his existance registered. Until a pair of strong hands grasped and shook him in an unacceptably harsh manner. It was the voice that really registered though. Familiar to him, though he didnt at that moment remember why. It was familiar in a pleasant way. It brought a twitch of light in his heart and allowed him to rally what strength he had left to open his eyes. And he found himself looking into eyes of flashing blue. 

So familiar, those eyes. That tiny flicker of light inside flared a ever so slightly brighter. Ianto knew those eyes. He knew them! He just...couldn't remember. His strength waned as he struggled with his newly revived brain and his eyes flickered shut.

"Ianto!" the voice called, again familiarity piercing the fog, What have they done to you?" Ianto's eyes flew open again. "Thats it, Ianto! Stay with me. We've got to get you out of here!" Ianto gazed blearily into those blue eyes, and that voice... Just for a moment something sparked.

"Jack," he whispered. A flare of memory. Then it was gone. The spark didn't catch and Iantos eyes flickered closed again. But he clung to that name. Jack. It was important. He felt it. Right in that heart that wasn't his, yet was.

"Thats it, Ianto," Jack said. "What in hell have they done?! We'll have a lot to discuss but first - we have to get out of here. So up now, boyo!"

"Jack," memory fired again, eyes flickered behind his eye lids. It was so hard. He wanted to just sleep. But there was something important. This...Jack. He knew this Jack, and there was something important... Sparks of memory, brief and quick to burn out, fired in his head, confusing and almost painful. It didn't help that this Jack was hauling him up painfully up off the floor.

"Jack!" Ianto's eyes flared open again and for a moment blue locked on blue. "Jack," Ianto whispered, flashes of memory that didn't quite take hold as the eyes of his rescuer watched him, both pissed and full of sorrow...and something else. Ianto groaned, fighting the weariness that tried to pull him into darkness. There was something...! Something important! Something about...Jack. If he could just remember!

"Dammit, Ianto! Get your arse in gear!," Jack snapped, breaking the eye contact. He hoisted Ianto over one shoulder and dumped him unceremoniously onto a gurney. "Sorry, mate, but there isn't time for gentle kindness right now. "Love you bare assed, by the way. Always did," Jack continued as he shoved the gurney out the cell door, "Hold on tight because we've got to move. We're about to have company in...three...two...one..." He began running the gurney down the corridor as the clang of a door and human voices reached them from the opposite direction. Iantos heart tripped into overtime and suddenly he knew!  


. "Trap!" he gasped. They were going to use him to trap Jack. "I'm bait..."

"Yes. Well. Thanks for that, Ianto," Jack said wryly, "A bit late off the mark."

"So sorry," Ianto mumbled, eyes closing in exhaustion. "My fault."

"Your fault?" Jack demanded, "Dont be such a damned self-effacing arse. How is it youre fault these damn bloody bastards managed to resurrect you after fifty year? You're fault they've held you like an animal? That they've done...whatever the the bloody hell they've done to you? Fifty years, Ianto! Fifty years and youre still a self-effacing wanker!" Ianto clung to the gurney, his still foggy brain trying to process his rescuers words. Wanker? Had this man...had _Jack_ ; just called him a wanker? And self-effacing? Had he been? Was he? Ianto tried to remember, but the wall was still there despite the flickers about its edges.  They raced along the corridor, taking a hard right around a corner.   A move that very nearly dumped Ianto off the gurney. 

   "Hold on, Ianto! Dammit!" Jack snapped.   

    "Trying," Ianto muttered.   He managed to flip fully to his stomach so he could get a better grip on the gurney.   He strained to see ahead of them for a few moments.   Until a gunshot cracked behind them and a bullet whined too damn close by.   Then Ianto flattened out as much as possible. 

"Jack.  Where exactly are we going?" Ianto asked, wondering why this felt so alarmingly familiar.  

     "Basement," Jack answered as he whipped the gurney around yet another corner - just ahead of a second gunshot.   "Sub-sub-basement actually." 

"Basement?" Ianto questioned faintly, head pressed tight against the thin matress, fingers numb from holding tight.   Situations like this?  Had they done this before? 

"Interesting story," Jack said, "Long but interesting..." he paused and ducked as a bullet whipped over their heads.  Ianto swallowed, mouth dry.  "Involves vortex manipulators and..." duck, "dimensional shift bombs, and..." duck, hard left, hard right, "...Iahntian marbles, and other," duck, "...fabulous non-human technology you've probably never heard of.  And a T.A.R.D.I.S."  He paused and whipped around another corner and through a three way intersection of corridors where he stopped.  

    Tardis? What was a tardis? Ianto wondered. Had he heard that term before? 

"Jack?" he said, "What...?"         

"Not now, Ianto.  I need to concentrate."   He slipped one hand into his overcoat and pulled out a dark blue bag that had a metalic sheen.   As he started to untie it a claxon alarm began to sound. 

Damn," Jack snarled.  

"Bit late on the mark, aren't they?" Ianto murmured.  

  "Not late enough.  The damned alarms were supposed to be disabled.  Trustworthy traitors are damned hard to find," Jack said.  

"Better later than earlier, then." 

"Shut it, Ianto," Jack growled, "We're in deep shite here."  He opened the bag in his hand and dumped out several small, sparkling crystal spheres.  "Iahntian marbles," he said, waving the handful of marbles at Ianto.  "Made of ahntite crystal from Iahn.  Similar to gravitational globes, but slower." Ianto just stared at him blankly and Jack sighed, looking sad again.  

"Alien tech," he said, "You used to know this." 

     "I expect I used to know a lot of things I can not currently recall," Ianto said with a note of bitterness.  "I did not ask to be resurrected, remember?" 

"Right.  There is that...  And here they come!" Jack said as their pursuers rounded a corner, guns aimed at them both of them even as security doors began to slide closed. 

   "Ah, Jack..." Ianto called as he watched the security door across they're path slide downward.  "I thinik... Look!" 

  "I can see them.  Watch this and be ready to run!" Jack replied. Run? Ianto lifted his head and twisted to look at Jack. He couldn't... His stuttered to a stop as he watched Jack toss the handful of marbles at their pursuers...and the men and women were suddenly floating and scrabbling awkwardly in midair. 

"Duck and hang on!" Jack shouted and shoved the gurney straight up the corridor sweeping under the security door with a bare whisper of space to spare. Just a few feet ahead, under yet another closing security door was a huge, gaping hole in the middle of the corridor. 

"Hole!" Ianto gasped as they ran full out toward same said hole, no slowing, "Jack! There's a big hole!" 

"I am well aware, Ianto," Jack said and grinned a familiar, cheeky grin, "Ready?" 

Ready? For what, Ianto thought. Just before Jack slammed to a halt, tossed another handful of marbles ahead of them into the hold then grabbed him in a bear hug. 

"Trust me, Ianto," Jack said as he pulled Isnto from the gurney, "and relax." Then he jumped. "In we go!" 

Ianto screamed. Spotty memory or not, he knew jumping into big, dark holes was a bad idea. As they fell thoughts of death swamped him again and Ianto wasn't sure he was completely against it. Until new, real images suddenly exploded from the fog that had wrapped his mind. Images that made Ianto clutch Jack tight in shock. 

"Jack?" he whispered, "I think...I remember." Jack chuckled, a sound tinged with sorrow. 

"Welcome back, love," he murmured, "God, but it's nice to hold you in my arms again." Ianto sucked in a deep breath and shivered. They weren't actually falling, he realized. Or, they were, but not as fast as they should. And he lay on top of Jack, a position that sparked a memory of one of thier very first meetings in another time and another place. And an entirely different part of his body other than his brain was stirring to life at the memory. 

"Well, hello to you too, Ianto, love," Jack said with a particularly wicked and teasing grin, a grin that brought back even more memories, "Timing is bad though. We're about at the bottom and I am out of marbles.". They were falling faster, Ianto realized as Jack's arms tightened around him. A lot faster... 

The world ended with wet, brutal jolt.


	4. Chapter 4

     All Ianto knew was darkness and confusion. It took some time for his brain to realize he was still alive. First that, and then memory of where he was and why. And then...Jack! A low terrible groan rumbled from beneath him. Ianto looked at the Jack beneath him in horror and scrambled off the man who had just saved him.

"Oh, my god! Jack?!" Ianto gingerly touched Jack's face as blood poured from his mouth and nose, eyes skittering unfocused.

"Ianto!" Jask croaked, m, "...found...you..."

"Yes, Jack," Ianto said, sweeping a lock of black hair out of Jack's face. "You found me. You saved me." He meant only to reassure Jack who had just given his life for Ianto. He assumed it was only a matter of time before their pursuers caught up to them...him...now.

"Saved, you, yes," a new voice interrupted him, "but no time to be maudlin. We've approximately one minute before they'll have all their security back up. Including those infernal shields against the TARDIS. Come now. Chop chop. Grab an arm".

Ianto stared wide eyed at a tall, spare older gentleman with a grey hair and thin face. Piercing smoke blue eyes dared him to disobey.

"If you want to live, get your arse up and help!" the gentleman snapped and bent to grasp one of Jack's arms. Drawing in a breath Ianto reached deep for his remaining reserve of strength and scrambled shakily to his feet, grabbing Jacks other arm.

"He's dead," Ianto said softly as he struggled to help the older gentleman drag Jack's dead weight.

"I expect so. Or very nearly," the older gentleman said, "a long, hard fall, that, and you on top. Even with the marbles." Ianto swallowed.

"Who...who are you?" he asked.

"The Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

"Exactly."

Ianto stared at him in confusion, though a long ago, half formed memory tugged at his rebooting mind. A time when Jack had disappeared for months. And more than once he had spoken of...his Doctor. But...this old man? Did Jack have a geriatric bent he hadn't known about? Older man fetish? An well of jealousy and a stab of hurt struck Ianto like a blow to the chest, making him gasp.

"You...you know Jack well?" Ianto couldn't help asking.

"Quite well. For many...years," the gentleman said with some apparent amusement.

"Ah," was all Ianto could say. "Where, um, are we going exactly?"

"Right here, and quickly now," the Doctor said nodding at a blue wooden box.

"A...a...what is it?" Ianto was confused as hell. What good was a wooden box going to do them?

"Its a TARDIS, disguised as an old police call box. Ingenious. No time now for more explanation. Twenty seconds. The Doctor unlocked a door and they pulled Jack inside where Ianto promptly collapsed by Jacks body as the Doctor person closed the door and locked it again. Before hurrying to a sort of central control center.

"Hang on, gentleman!" The Doctor called as the air was filled with a godawful strange sound. Then they seemed to be moving!

"Damn, damn, damn!" The Doctor roared as he hustled back and forth around the control panel. "Its going to be close...! Dammit, Harkness! Get your arse up off the floor. We don't have time for playing dead. We are in a bit of a sticky spot here!"

Ianto nearly screamed again when the man he thought dead gasped suddenly, body arching hard for a moment then collapsing with a shudder. The next moment Ianto found himself looking down into Jack's blue eyes again.

"You're alive?" Ianta said blankly. "But...I thought..."

"Alive and well," Jack said, sitting up, looking as hale - if not yet as hearty - as he had before the fall – except for the blood staining his clothes.

"There was blood," Ianto insisted, "I saw the blood. And you...you weren't breathing."

"Yeah. About that...you haven't remembered the whole 'immortal' thing yet?"

Ianto shook his head numbly. Jack was immortal? How...?

"You will. Sorry about that back there. Unpleasant but necessary. No time to prepare you." Jack jumped to his feet as if he hadn't just broken most of his body. The edges of Ianto's world began to shrink in as darkness enroached.

"Hang on a bit then we'll find you some clothes...Ianto?!" Jack's voice seemed to come from a great distance as the world, the insanely large world for the inside of a call box, greyed out then went black.

 

For a moment, when he awoke this time, dread leached through every molecule of Ianto's body as fear that everything - Jack, escape, all of it - had been a dream. But it only took moments to realize he not only lay in a comfy bed rather than on a cold cement floor, but was covered and comfortable. Slowly opening his eyes Ianto struggled to sit up.

The room he was in was not large, sort of modern industrial minimalist, masculine. A few items of men's clothing, including a familiar overcoat, hung on one wall – an antique WWII era metal foot locker under them. The bed was the largest and fanciest thing in the room, heavy black lacquered wood, metal grey bedding and linens. There were no decorations other than the strange circular shapes on what Ianto assumed to be the bulkhead, matching the ones he remembered from the larger room he had been in before. There was a simple metal desk with matching metal chair as well. The desk top was empty. A single green plant in a wide pot sat near the bed. A tall, whispy fern sort of thing, probably stronger than it looks, Ianto decided.

"It's a _thwait_ ," Jack spoke from the door, startling Ianto. "The plant," Jack nodded at it as he moved slowly into the room, "you seemed mesmerised it. Thwaiti fern are native to my home world. Grew in the seaside forests near the Boeshane Peninsula. Shade plant." Jack came to a stop near the bed, hands bunched in his lockets as he watched Ianto intently."

"It's...lovely," Ianto said. A polite return. Meaningless. He couldn't look at Jack.

"How are you, Ianto?" Jack asked as he moved into the room and closer to the bef. Concerned, yes, but not smothering. Ianto glanced up with a despairing look. When he didn't answer Jack put out a hand but Ianto flinched away.

"Don't touch me!" Ianto muttered, turning away again. Jack ignored him, of course.

"Why, Ianto?" Jack demanded as he cupped a hand around Ianto's face, pulling it around so he could see Ianto's eyes. Ianto shook his head trying to dislodge Jack's hand, unsuccessfully. "You've never had a problem with my hands on you in the past."

Instead of answering Ianto threw up a hand, knocking Jacks away this time. He scrunched back against the polished black headboard of the bed, knees drawn up, putting a few more inches between them. His body...God help him...his body remembered Jack. False memories, he reminded himself even as his heart beat faster at the other man's proximity. Other parts of his body were responding as well, and it made Ianto sick. He did remember Jacks touch, the feel of Jack's big body, the taste of him, and how he had welcomed it. But it was all wrong now! This body, despite the memories, had never really felt Jacks touch. It had never lay with Jack, or loved him. These memories...they belonged to a man who had died fifty years before. They weren't his memories.

"How can you want to touch this..." Ianto demanded, thumping a fist against his own flank, "this...thing!" Now Jack's blue eyes took on a half amused, half feral gleam.

"Interesting question, Ianto," Jack said, "Not one you've had to ask before. Ever. You know I have never before had a problem touching you anywhere l like. What's the problem now?"

"You can't touch...this, now!" Ianto cried, "l never even thought to ask something like that because... before...I didn't have too! I...I was still me then. The real me! This...body? This is not me! Not really me. Its a copy! A thing! Something they somehow stuffed my...the real memories into. This is not me. I _died_ , Jack! Fifty years ago! This... How can you want to touch it?"

"I remember, Ianto. You're death is something I will never forget no matter how long I might live, believe me," there was a dark note in his tone, his gaze grim, "But you are talking nonsense. I know you've been through a hell of a lot and need some recovery time. But everything you just said is all nonsense. Unfortunately I have no time to coddle you. There's no time right now for maudlin. We have a bit of a problem. I've brought you some clothes. Theres a bath in through there," he nodded at a closed door, "There are linens in a closet there. I've also left you a schematic so you can find the kitchen and control room." He started to turn to leave as Ianto stared after him silently, a bit stunned. "Oh, by the way," Jack added as he walked out, "our situation, on a scale of one to ten? Thirty two. So get your arse in gear and don't dawdle."

Ianto stared at Jack's retreating form incredulously. Same old Jack, the thought popped into his head, startling him. God, the memories... They could overwhelm him if he let them. Everything...his life...was so surreal now... Jack's parting statement caught up to him suddenly.

"Fuck," Ianto muttered succinctly and pushed himself to the edge of the bed. He was naked. Still. For the first time he had the presence of mind to be a bit embarrassed. Not about Jack, but about all the...others. Anger as well. Real anger snagged in his chest for the first time in...well, a long time. Those bastards and what they had done to him! Right back to the damned 459... No! No, dammit, Ianto shook his head! Jack was right. Probably. He usually was, the bastard. There was no time for maudlin.

Ianto started to stand and collapsed with a gasp. He had forgotten. Days, weeks – or longer – of starvation and neglect and then that mad rush, the old man, dragging Jack who had-died? Again. Damn. Ianto scrubbed his face with both hands and got another start. He needed a shave. Badly. God what he must look like! How could Jack have even stood to look at him, let alone want to touch him. More slowly Ianto stood again, balancing carefully on hunger weakened legs. Slowly he made his way across the room to the clothes Jack had left.

Trousers, well...jeans really. A t-shirt. Even a new packet of pants. Armani low rise trunks in bright colors, the bastard! Ianto's lips twitched with amusement anyway. Jack had even remembered his sizes. Or what his sizes had been. Ianto look down at himself with a grimace. He had a feeling it would all be a little large on him. Picking up the clothing Ianto shuffled into the bath. There was a short passage that held a door to the toilet alcove on his right and another for a closet with the linens and other supplies. Beyond that was a small room with a sink, a central drain, and controls on the wall. A narrow bench was built onto the wall just outside the entry. Laying the clothes and a towel on the bench he quickly made use of the toilet then stepped carefully into the bath and examined the controls. He hadn't a clue how to operate them and they weren't giving up their secrets.

"Bugger!" Ianto growled after a full minutes examination. "How am I supposed to shower..." He cut off with a gasp as a rain shower of icy water cascaded from the ceiling. Too shocked to emit the shriek tangling in his throat he shrank against one wall. Right, then, voice controlled. Should have thought of that. Ianto pressed back against the wall and struggled to find his voice.

"Ho...," he began, "No, warm! Water warm!" Immediately the water heated to a comfortable level. "There we go, then. Much better," Ianto said. He stood under the warm water longer probably than he should. But it was his first good wash up since...when? Weeks? Months? So he stood in the heat, turning slowing to face the sink. He couldn't stop the shocked gasp that fell from his throat. There he was...or it was, the new – fake – body in all its naked glory. Unrecognizable. Thin as a rail. Emaciated really. Pale and thin with bones sticking out everywhere. And from the neck up? Good lord. He was worse than unshaven. He looked like a homeless vagrant, a prison camp inmate. And Jack had just stood there looking at him with that familiar mix of heat and affection. How? He had to get all this off. Now!

"Um, soap?" he said hopefully. There hadn't been either soap or shampoo in the closet. He had found a razor but no shaving soap. A light on the control panel lit then and a small rectangular section slid out of the front side. Ianto tried pressing it first. Nothing. Next he passed a hand under it and a thick, pale green foam oozed into his hand.

"Lovely," Ianto said. Shampoo also appeared from a second section. And the green foam worked perfectly for shaving, though it was quite a job since he hadn't scissors to cut back the mess first. And cleaning up all that hair would be a headache. He managed, however, and eventually stood before the mirror clean shaven. He ran his fingers through his...the overlong hair...on his head. Too shaggy by far but nothing he could do about it now. It would have to wait. At least he was finally clean.

"Water off?" The water ceased and Ianto moved back to the bench. Picking up the package of pants he collapsed on the bench, exhausted. Leaning his head back he closed his eyes. It might, he decided, be a great idea to just sit there forever. God, he was so tired. If he wasn't so thoroughly famished he might consider getting back in the bed. As soon as his mind began to relax, however, whatever barriers he had managed to raise against the cascade of memory that had threatened earlier began to relax as well.

No! Ianto surged to his feet. Not now. He wasn't sure he could deal with it all at once. Not on his own. And he could never be sure what help Jack would be. As much as he loved...had loved...the man, no matter how much Jack had proclaimed his love to Ianto, Ianto never forgot their differences. Jack was immortal, Ianto was not. Jack had lived for over a century and had had dozens of lovers. He would live for a long time to come. Centuries maybe. However much he might mean to Jack now, or what he had meant fifty years ago, he was still just one of many - past, present and future. Ianto had never been foolish enough to kid himself about that. But, at the moment, that and other things, didn't bear thinking about. He loved...used to love...Jack but he could never be totally certain about Jack's support, or even his presence. Jack could be hard. Was hard. He was, had been, a friend and lover and a good boss but Ianto knew he had also been a torturer, an executioner and a hunter. He could run hot one moment, then stone cold the next. There was a darkness in the man...well that didn't bear thinking about at the moment either. But Ianto assumed he had to prepare himself to deal with everything on his own, and he simply could not do that at the current time. He needed to eat, first and foremost. Hadn't Jack mentioned a schematic?

Straightening from the wall with some effort Ianto dressed slowly. The clothes were too big. The jeans hung loose on his hips and the shirt felt sizes too big. And Jack had forgotten socks and shoes. Barefoot Ianto did his best to clean up the shower. That effort required that he sit for several more minutes before he went back to the bedroom.

On the chair where the clothes had lain there was a small round object, black, about an inch thick. Ianto picked it up and tried twisting and squeezing until a three dimensional deck plan schematic appeared suddenly in the air.

"Interesting," Ianto murmured. A red dot pulsed inside a section that resembled the plan of his...this...suite. "You are here. So...how do I find the kitchen..." As soon as he spoke the word 'kitchen' a glowing soft green path appeared leading through a maze of corridors to another larger room. "Ah, what about 'control room'?" Ianto said. The path changed, leading to a room right close along the corridor. "Closer, but I need to eat so, back to the kitchen," Ianto murmured. The path changed again and after a grimacing glance at his bare feet Ianto stepped into the corridor.

The corridors were wide, high ceilinged spaces that seemed to change every time he turned a corner. They also seemed a great deal longer that the schematic showed. Ianto had to stop numerous times to rest against the corridor walls. On the schematic it hadn't seemed that far but by the time he reached the spot marked as the kitchen he was exhausted, the edges of his world beginning to go grey again. Ianto leaned heavily against the door that supposedly lead to the kitchen, face buried against one arm. He wasn't sure he had the energy to even ask the door to open.

 

"Ianto?" Jack's voice as a big hand fell on his shoulder. Ianto didn't even have the energy to be startled. He did enjoy the warmth of that big hand though. "Come. I think we need to get some food into you, love." Strong hands lifted his arm around broad shoulders and a powerful arm snaked around his back, supporting him. "Open," Jack said then led Ianto in through a moderate sized sparsely decorated space filled with mostly empty counters and a lot of cabinets to a small table in the corner, easing Ianto into a chair. "Now. Lets see what we can find." Ianto blinked at him owlishly.

"You're going to cook?" he asked with considerable surprise. Jack turned, looking hurt.

"You think I can't cook?" he demanded. Then he broke out into that familiar broad, dimpled grin. "Grglk Arkx."

"What?" Ianto asked, confused.

"It's Luxsk for, well, very loosely translated, 'automatic food replicator' or, basically, Insta-Chef. Top notch, state of the art Luxsk technology." He headed to a contraption sitting on the counter. "Let's see..." Jack rubbed his hands together, "I think...a bit of Mother's Chicken Soup to start, and some crusty bread." He pushed a few buttons and while it did its thing he fetched a bottle of water from inside what he assumed was a fridge. Opening the bottle he set in on the table in front of Ianto and went back to the Grg thing.

"Ah, here we are," He lifted something carefully from the counter and carried it across to Ianto. Here it was, indeed. A white plate ringed with a blue geometric patter and a bowl that matched. The bowl was filled with the most delicious smelling soup Ianto thought he had ever smelled. Of course he had been starved for who knew how long too. It was good, though. Amazing. So was the four inch section of crusty baguette. So was the water, for that mater. When he had gone through the first bottle a second appeared in front of him and for the first time in several minutes Ianto looked up.

"Jack," Ianto murmured, almost as if he was only just realizing Jack was there.

"Ianto," Jack said in return, sounding amused, but in his gaze there was something else, something soft for a moment. Something that made Ianto's breath catch, his heart skip up. Jack stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at Ianto, a pensive light in his eyes. "I wish we had more time, Ianto," he said, "Unfortunately, as I believe I mentioned earlier, we are in a bit of a...situation. I came to find you only because you were taking longer than I expected." Swinging around suddenly he fidgeted with the food machine then carried another plate to Ianto. "Triple grilled cheese and tomato with pickle, fried potatoes, and a sausage. Eat what you can but don't make yourself sick. Come to the control room as soon as you can. I've got to go. I've left the Doctor alone for longer than I should have." On that note he left Ianto to his lone meal.


	5. Chapter 5

Ianto managed to eat all the soup and bread and a few bites each of the rest before he felt as if he had done exactly what Jack as cautioned him against, eating until he felt sick. It took him several more minutes poking around in the kitchen to figure out where to put the dishes and throw out the waste. Now, with his stomach unpleasantly full, he badly needed the gents room. Fortunately the schematic directed him to one just off a dining area outside the kitchen. Finally he retraced his steps toward the control room. The place seemed massive, which didn't connect with his memory of the outside. But then again, his head had been a little dodgy, hadn't it? At least the food and water had boosted his energy a little.

He found the control room eventually and for a moment he stood outside the door. He was reluctant to enter, though he wasn't entirely sure why. He was insane, though, wasn't he? Maybe he was still trapped back in that tiny cold cell, starving to death, and this was just a dream spawned of dehydration, starvation and terror. That thought horrified Ianto so deeply he pounded a fist on the door in terrified panic,

"Open up!" he shouted, a strangled sound, weak, "Please, op...". The door slid open silently and Ianto nearly fell through, stumbling to a stop against a chrome railing that ran along the edge of a catwalk that encircled a roundish room. A room right out of a scifi film. "Spaceship chic," he mumbled to himself as he stared around wide eyed. Two men, one Jack's large form and the other the other tall and grey haired, stood with their back's to him, arguing over something. They obviously hadn't heard him enter. He opened his mouth to call out to them when there was a sort of hard 'thunk' sound and the entire room shuddered slightly. Ianto clung to the railing in front of him while the older man let out a string of elegant and not so elegant curses as he rapidly did things to the hexagonal console in the center of the room. Jack was cursing too as he followed suit, both their voices carrying over the clamor of alarms and lights. God, it was surreal! Ianto backed up until his back was pressed against the wall then sank down until he sat with his knees folded up against his chest. And he just sat. And he watched as Jack and the older man raced around the console, both looking a bit more than worried. The room wasn't huge but it took several minutes before Jack caught sight of him.

That was it. Jack stared up at him for a moment with that enigmatic look that could be so frustrating, nodded in slight acknowledgment and went back to whatever it was he was doing. A few thumps and shudders later Ianto forced himself to his feet. Funk him, he thought. Holding tight to the railing he made his way along the catwalk to stairs leading down to the console level. Every dulled jolt threatened to collapse his already weakened legs and send him arse over elbow down the stairs. And Jack, that bloody arse, did he care? Not that a bloke could tell. He just stood there, pounding at a side console and waving a hand around a strange holographic display hovering in the air. Ianto reached the bottom of the staircase just as a particularly hard jolt did knock Ianto to his knees. To give Jack credit, he did glance Ianto's way then, but just for a moment before he went back to whatever he was doing.

Hurt, angry and feeling sheepish at the same time, if that was possible, Ianto climbed to his feet and watched the insanity as Jack and the older man – the Doctor, Ianto recalled – shouted at each other. Their concern was obvious enough, hence the sheepishness – about his sullen childish thoughts. He really was completely barmy.

"What is going on?" Ianto whispered in bewilderment. He really didn't think anyone would hear him in all the chaos, but the one called the Doctor turned suddenly, fixing him with that piercing gaze.

"We are under attack," he said succinctly, in a tone that called Ianto a thorough dimwit. Blushing slightly, though whether from embarrassment or anger Ianto wasn't sure, he moved further toward the console while trying to stay out of the way. The air literally danced with holograms now, mostly a mass of circles and lines and partial circles and a whole lot that looked to Ianto like the internal works of old fashioned watches. Slowly Ianto made his way to where Jack moved back and forth between two side consoles and several holograms.

"Jack, what is this? What is going on?" he asked softly. Jack spared him a quick, grim glance without pausing in what he was doing.

"We didn't quite make it out of the UNIT sub-basement,' Jack said, "or, to be more accurate, we did but we hadn't managed to fully dematerialize before their shields went back up. We rematerialized approximately three sub-basements above where we originally were. Since then they have been bombarding us with everything they have. TARDIS has been holding out admirably well. But this last weapon they've pulled out, well, it seems to be working. Our shields are really taking a pounding."

"And if they don't hold?" Ianto asked shakily. Jack looked at him again then shrugged.

"Then I assume they will try to board us."

"And then," Ianto murmured, almost more to himself than to Jack, "they will take you, and maybe the Doctor," he glanced across at the older man who shot him a piercing look that said he was well aware of what his fate might be, "and they'll kill me. They as good as told me I was no longer of any use."

"Yes. Well," Jack said, "they do lie, remember. They might change their minds and keep you around." He glanced at Ianto with a grim look. "To use against me."

Ianto watched him for a long moment, heart pounding.

"Could they?" he asked finally, "Could they use me against you?" Did Jack really care enough? The man had held a gun to his head once, for gods sake. That had been early on, of course, and Ianto had to admit he'd given Jack damned good reason, but still... The man was ice cold sometimes. He had pointed guns at everyone at some point, and he could be very...cutting. An arsehole, basically. A mean one. And on previous occasions – yes, his damned memory was coming back that damned much – Jack had shown little concern when he was in danger. Would his suffering really effect Jack terribly? Would the man really care? Jack did pause this time and looked Ianto in the eye.

"I would die for you, Ianto," he said softly, blue eyes blazing into Ianto's. Which was rather like a punch in the gut. Because he had died for him already, hadn't he? Yeah, he came back, because he couldn't die, but he could still feel pain. He could be hurt. He could suffer. And that fall from however far up had broken Jack's body in pieces, Ianto was certain of that, and he hadn't died immediately. The pain must have been unbelievable, yet he had deliberately chosen to suffer that way. To save Ianto.

"Well, then," Ianto said, feeling a certain amount of elation despite their situation and trying not to let it show as he held Jack's gaze. "How do we go about not getting boarded?"

"Good question," Jack said grimly as he turned back to the console even as the control room rocked hard. "God knows what alien tech UNIT has stashed away in these sub-basements. More even than Torchwood had, I'm sure. And they are throwing it all at us. We'd be fine if we could leave, but they've got some sort of shielding up that the TARDIS can't penetrate."

"Yet," the Doctor said as he moved around the side of the console nearest them. "There is always a way. We have simply got to find it." Even as the last word fell from his lips the control room shuddered as if there were an earthquake and a deep, sonorous ringing began to sound.

"Wh...why am I hearing a church bell," Ianto asked, fear once again taking the forefront as he took in the dire glance Jack and the Doctor exchanged.

"Cloister bell," the Doctor said, "rings only in the most dangerous of circumstances." He looked at the console in front of him then up at a hologram. "Shield breech." He shared a glance with Jack again. "Siege mode. Our only choice." Jack nodded.

"Alright. I'll transfer power from all non-essential systems and let you take care of the rest. I need to take care of...business," Jack said and looked at Ianto. Jack quickly punched several buttons on both side consoles then moved to one of the consoles on the center station. Then he turned to Ianto.

"We are about to be boarded," he said, "the shields have been compromised. The only way to prevent boarding is to activate 'siege mode' or HADS. Either way it puts a huge energy strain on TARDIS. No one gets in but no one gets out either. So I need you to come with me. Now." He grasped Ianto's elbow and pulled him toward the stairs.

"Where are we going?" Ianto demanded as Jack hustled him up the stairs and out the door. They paused outside a door just a few steps from the control room entrance. Jack turned him so they faced each other and put his hands on Ianto's shoulders.

"You have to trust me, Ianto. I know you've been through a lot but you have to stay strong. We are currently seriously screwed. In just a few seconds we will either be trapped inside the TARDIS on low power for an indefinite period of time or HADS will put us in a sort of constant inter-dimensional flux – either way the drain on TARDIS power can eventually lead to life support failure, total shut down. Things like that. All bad."

"So...what?" Ianto asked uncertainly.

"So, this," Jack said, "Door open." Ianto looked around as the door behind him opened revealing black darkness. When he looked back Jack was inches from his face. "I didn't go through all this trouble to save you just to get you caught again." He moved until their bodies touched then he kissed Ianto. Ianto clutched at Jack, only vaguely aware that Jack slipped something into his back pocket. He enjoyed the kiss far too much to care in the moment. Then Jack stepped back abruptly and gave Ianto a hard shove.

"I will find you, Ianto. And sorry about the shoes!" he called as Ianto stumbled back into darkness – and t hen nothing. One moment he could see Jack framed in the light rectangle of the door, the next moment Ianto was encompassed by impenetrable darkness and violently nauseating vertigo. What in hell was happening to him? Ianto thought. What had Jack done?! Then the dizzying blackness overtook his mind and he passed out. Again!

He awoke with a jolt this time, crouched on his knees, nauseous vertigo slowly dissipating. As it did so he became increasingly aware of the warmth and light of sunshine and the rough feel of gravel, dirt and grass under his hands. Screwing up his courage Ianto opened his eyes. Yep. Grass. And dirt. And a bit of gravel. In fact he seemed to be kneeling in a road if some sort. Well, a track more like. He turned his head slowly, delighted to find both nausea and dizziness gone, to see two dirt ruts running through a grassy meadow,curving around a copse of trees on his left and disappearing from sight as is entered a low spot. Next, still with care, he turned his head the other direction and froze. His only consolation, he decided, was that they seemed as stunned by his appearance as he was by theirs.

Ianto knew he hadn't been the best student during his school days but he wasn't stupid either. And history had always been a favorite subject. He had a good mind for fact and trivia and he knew what he was seeing even if his mind had difficulting grasping it as truth. A wooden cart with wooden wheels, two oxen, a young man with curly dark hair, barefoot, wearing a simple sleeveless woolen tunic and holding a cattle whip. Behind him an older man in a better quality tunic embroidered in yellow, sandaled feet. Both stared at him in wide eyed shock. Then the younger of the men collapsed suddenly to his knees,babbling hysterically in what sounded to Ianto like ancient Greek before pressing his pale face against the ground.

The older man, probably only a few years older than himself, Ianto judged, was also terribly pale but remained more composed. He barked something at the boy that stopped his babbling but he stayed where he was. The the man spoke to Ianto. In Latin. It might not be a spoken language any longer but it was still taught in schools. He knew what it sounded like. He just didn't understand it. Standing slowly Ianto brushed off his knees and tried tried a smile.

"Hello. Lovely day. I am Ianto Jones. You?" They didn't understand him any more than he understood them of course. The man gave him a narrow eyed, considering glance then and looked up at the sky then back to Ianto. He jabbed a hand toward the sun then swept it down toward the ground, Ianto's eyes followed the gesture as the man spoke again. Ianto recognized one word, Mithras, and his breath froze in his lungs. He smiled wider. The man gestured at the sun then Ianto again. "Mithras". Ianto found himself nodding.

"Sure. I'm Mithras. Why not," he agreed, tapping his own chest then pointing at the sun, miming a crash to earth, hopefully mimicking whatever they had seen. Jack, what in hell have you gotten men into, he thought?! They think I'm Mithras. I've either run into hard core play actors slash Mithras cultists or.... Except the 'or' didn't bear thinking about. Because it couldn't be real, right? It was impossible. He had to be dreaming, unconscious or something. He had to have fallen and hit his head when Jack shoved him into that dark room. Ianto struggled to refocus he attention when he realized the man was talking to him again. He was also bowing to Ianto. Though his expression remained skeptical the older man bowed slightly at the waist and kept gesturing at the road ahead of them. And Ianto recognized another word – _Londinium_. They seemed to want him to go with them. To Londinium. Londinium. That could only mean...but it wasn't possible. Please god let it be a dream, or play acting, he thought.

"Lead on, my good man," Ianto said out loud, gesturing up the road with a smile. He watched and the man kicked the still cowering younger man rather brutally in the side and barked a command at him. The younger man immediately climbed to his feet and clucked at the oxen, using the whip to encourage them to move. He didn't look at Ianto. What was he going to do, he wondered. What if he was stuck here for ever – assuming it wasn't a dream. As much as he wished it was a dream, he had been with Torchwood in one capacity or another, long enough to know the impossible did exist and inexplicable situations occurred more often than one might think. This was inexplicable and impossible, but it felt damned real. The heat of the sun, the sweat beginning to slide down his face, the stench of the oxen. Too damned real.                 

"Oi, Jack," he muttered to himself, "I am going to kill you when I see you again. If I see you again." No. No 'if's'. He had to believe that if Jack sent him here he knew how to find him. Except that he couldn't forget the look on Jack's face, or that last kiss. It had felt like good bye.

They didn't have far to go, as it turned out. Around that copse of trees and there it was, lain out below them along a wide river. Numerous buildings scattered about but concentrated around a bridge that stretched across the river. If nothing else, Ianto recognized that river, even if it looked a bit different than it would in...oh, just under two thousand years. 

"Londinium," he said, more to himself. A hand clapped his shoulder and the older of his two traveling companions smiled and nodded.

"Londinium."


	6. Chapter 6

Ianto stood on high ground beyond the perimeter of the city of Londinium – village really. It was a thriving trade center it seemed, yet it was still terribly primitive. He was Welsh, of course, so his ancient British history wasn't the best, but he estimated it to be sometime in the early first century. Long enough after the initial Roman invasions but still likely before – and here that kernel of anxiety in Ianto's heart increased just a bit more – before it was razed by Boadacia and her Iceni warriors when it was rebuilt to look more like what he recalled from text books.

A soft warm wind blew at his back and rustled in tall grasses as he gazed over the rather bucolic scene. There were wooden boats in the river, the Taminus, some at at the docks while others waited. Wooden carts rolled along the water front and up and down the streets though most traffic was on foot. Buildings, largely of wood with thatched roofs. He had been here nearly three months, three very interesting months, and it still seemed like a surreal dream.

 

That first day they had entered the city of Londinium and the younger man had been sent off with the cart while Ianto's escort took him to on of the larger structures in the city. A wealthy man's house it seemed to be. Several buildings situated around a stone paved courtyard. All of them were wooden except the largest which was built of mud brick, thatched roof, with a higher stone veranda along the front. A couple of people, one a man the other a young woman, both wearing plain simply tunics like the younger man had been, hurried out of sight after startled glances. On the veranda an older woman in a nice dress sort of thing sat at a loom, two women – slaves? – dressed plainly sat nearby spinning yarn. Or he was pretty sure that was what they were doing. As he and the older man approached the two slave women continued what they were doing but the other woman glanced up, gave them a surprised look, and rose to her feet.

She spoke to the older man in respectful tones but eyed Ianto with sharp, assessing eyes. When the man with him spoke the woman's eyes widened and she glanced at the sky before glancing back to Ianto. That caused the man to bark something at her that made her drop her gaze. The two slave woman gasped sharply and were on their knees in a second. The man snapped at them and gestured toward one of the wooden buildings to the side of the courtyard, and then to another on the other side. The two women leapt to their feet and scurried away while the man and woman spoke in rapid tones.

From there he was whisked in through main house, which appeared to be two stone floored, sparsely furnished rooms, and out the back along another veranda that ran at a right angle from the back of the house along the front of another building. Several doors opened off the veranda. Other out buildings were scattered along the edges of a rear courtyard. The woman lead him to a door at the end of the longer building. She pushed open a door made of wooden slats and bowed, indicating that he should go in.

Stone floor, brick walls, thatch roof, about ten to twelve feet long and maybe eight feet wide. No windows. There was a small table in one corner and a pallet on the floor. No chairs. He was quite a bit larger than these people and had to duck to get through their doors. Inside he turned to look at the woman. She spoke to him again then, still with that sharp expression, she clasped her hands together and bowed and backed away leaving him alone. Uncertain what else to do he had sat down carefully on that pallet with his back against the wall and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

"Oh, God, Jack," he whispered to himself for the second time in about an hour, "What have you done?!"

Luckily they hadn't left him alone long. Half an hour maybe. Then a obviously terrified young slave girl had come and lead him to another building that turned out to be a bath house or sauna of sorts. Water heated over a fire at one end of the building. The young woman showed him pots of scented oil and produced an odd shaped and indicated he should remove his clothes. Hadn't that been an interesting experience. Any other time and it might have been rather ideal, but at that moment... Well he had thought he wasn't interested. Until her hands were everywhere and yes, he had responded. He got more interested when she very obviously offered further services. That only lasted until he realized how terrified she was and how young she must be. His interest had waned fast and he had backed away with an apologetic smile. The girl had given him a wide eyed look, gathered up his clothes and fled, leaving him to wonder what in hell he was supposed to do.

Fortunately wasn't left to wonder long. Another slave woman, this one older, had come in with with new clothing and helped him dress in the unfamiliar garment. Off white wool, embroidered with a blueish color, rather short in length and snug around his trunk, short sleeves, the tunic was similar to the older man's and he had a suspicion it was likely one of his.

Still barefoot he was taken into the main house and fed a rather delicious stew. He ate alone and no one attrmpted to speak to him now. They were obviously finding the lack of understanding between them too laborious. So was he. The solitude was both a relief and not. Not much had changed in the three months he had been here. He could recall only a smidge of his school room latin. None that was really helpful with ancient colloquial latin. He was alone. Alone not in a strange land – it was, after all, still his homeland – but in a strange time. He was far far out of time and a bit out of place as well. That first day the greatest relief, surprisingly, had come in the form of the cart boy from earlier.

After eating he had been taken back to his room. Stir crazy he had been unable to remain in the small room so he had sat outside, on the veranda and watched the household. For the household part, they ignored him. When slaves might draw near they all but cowered, avoiding his eyes. Those in better clothing, the people he deemed family or at least non-slaves, would cast him a mixture of glances from curious to clearly suspicious. He had been sitting there a several hours when the need to relieve himself had become urgent. There was a small hut on a slight downhill slope he had seen both slave and family entering and exiting. He hoped that was the toilet, latrine, whatever. Standing abruptly he had stepped off the veranda. Slaves scattered like leaves in a wind, other household members paused and watched him as he made his way carefully across the courtyard. When he passed someone they would bow slightly and murmur something.

As he approached the small hut a figure stepped out and ran into him. He had had to grasp the smaller person to keep from knocking over and found himself looking down into the wide, startled blue eyes of the cart boy from earlier. Probably around nineteen or twenty he guessed, several years younger than himself, whereas Jack was...older. And yet something in those blue eyes surrounded by long dark lashes made him think of Jack and answered the lonely terror inside him.

"Wait," he told the younger man, knowing they were in full view of several others. Holding up a hand palm flattened out he repeated "wait". Then he hurried into the hut and did his business as it turned out to be what he had hoped. When he left he had found the younger man kneeling just outside the door. That was when he realized he wasn't even certain why he had told the young man to wait. Finally he made a drinking gesture and the young man leapt to his feet and ran off.

He had gone back to his room, going inside this time as it was growing dark and most everyone seemed either to be inside or gathering on the far side of the house and he hadn't been invited. So he stretched out on the pallet. The young man had come to him later with a mug of wine and a oil lamp. He hadn't thought he would be interested, too stressed, for what the young man offered. He wasn't. The young man, though maybe a little fearful, actually seemed willing and Ianto was pretty sure he was old enough and he had needed the comfort that night.

 

Keos. Ianto glanced down at the young skave crouched on one knee at his side staring contentedly out over the landscape below. Keos. They still didn't understand one another much though they had managed to eventually get names across. Keos status had certainly risen as Ianto had made his favor known. From lowly cart boy and laborer to concubine of a god or demi-god or whatever it was they thought him.

That was and interesting situation in itself. Ianto suspected he was living on borrowed time, history not withstanding. Slaves peasants and even many of the merchants in town seemed to buy the gossip about his identity. Slaves and peasants cowered and avoided him when possible. Much of the lesser merchant class showed a mixture of deference and curiosity. Many of them had seen the flash of light as it had hit the ground and they were a superstitious lot. It was the other batch of merchants, wealthier and better educated men, who showed the most suspicion. Wary suspicion. So far they had tolerated his supposed position. They looked at him with doubt yet didn't have enough evidence to claim him a pretender. Yet. And Ianto had managed to use some slight of hand tricks to hold them off. Coins appearing out of nowhere, and statues talking to them. He had even used his moderate ventriloquist skills to make a dead body talk at the funeral of the son of a merchant family who had died in a boating accident. Poor taste, yes, but it had the suspicious backing off when they seemed to be demanding he make the boy come back to life. The fact that the boy babbled in a language that clearly wasn't Latin nor Ianto's language was a huge boon. He had chosen to use modern French, the one other language he had a fair grasp on.

So for three months he had lived in a sort of limbo. He was taken frequently to what seemed to be secretive meetings with a handful of men he was beginning to recognize where he was given gifts of wine and food and other items and basically worshipped as if he were a god. In return he showed off his small repertoir of parlor tricks to impress them. He had a feeling their effects were beginning to wane with some of the men. Two weeks before they had moved him from the city to a farm about a mile outside the city. It was even more primitive than the house in the city but he had been given a hut to himself and he had insisted that Keos move with him and sleep in his hut with him.

If he felt some guilt about his time with Keos, he reminded himself that he was here because of Jack, and he needed someone to keep him from totally losing his mind. Keos was it. Relieved of his more onorous duties the young man turned out to be a fairly sunny companion, constantly talking and laughing at his own jokes. And Ianto would smile and laugh with him even though he had no idea what Keos had said. The younger man had been trying to help him learn and Ianto had picked up a few rudimentary words that helped him get along. It was hardly enough though. The thought of staying here long term with no way to communicate or understand the written words, such that there were. That terrified him almost as much as the time period he suspected he was in. God, he could die of a fever or accident or just a simple cut before Jack found him. If Jack was even still alive. He felt Keos stir at his side and murmur something but Ianto paid little attention. His thoughts were occupied by a distant, very distant now, time and place and wit an authoritative, gregarious blue eyed bastard of a man who had rescued him, died for him then dumped him two thousand years in the past, maybe in as much if not more peril than he had been in that damned TARDIS thing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger and Rescue

Turning from the view of Londinium and its river and his memories of their future, Ianto looked down at Keos. The strained expression on the younger mans face should have said it all before he had to point to his groin the toward the nearest trees with a pleading expression. Embarrassed nodded and waved a hand toward the trees in permission. Three months and he still wasn’t used to the slave thing. He forgot Keos couldn’t just go take a piss when he needed to. He had to have permission. If Ianto could speak Latin he would tell Keos he had standing permission. But he didn’t speak Latin. Which meant he needed to pay better attention. Something he constantly reminded himself of.

Ianto’s self-recriminations were interrupted by a scream. It was distant and though Ianto listened hard the scream wasn’t repeated. He was certain it had come from the direction of the farm. Back at his elbow Keos touched his arm to get his attention. When Ianto turned to look the young man wore a cincerned expression. He opened his mouth, pointed to it then in the direction of the farm.

“I heard it,” he agreed with a nod. “I hoped it was my imagination. With luck its just an animal. But we need to get back anyway. Just to be safe lets stay off the road.” He knew Keos didn’t understand him but the younger man followed without hesitation when Ianto directed him the opposite direction away from the road.  
  
Though not on the road they were close enough they could easily identify hoof beats when they head them. A lot of hoof beats. And not all on the road. Shit, Ianto thought! It sounded like an army. Roman or not, he didn’t want to run into a group of soldiers. They were not known for kindness and generosity. There was no way to know their reaction to a pair of men skulking about in the woods. He feared particularly for Keos who, as a slave, would fair poorly. Not that Iantos supposed god status would mean anything to them. His inability to speak their language could get him really dead really fast as a spy. Then Keos would truly be at their mercy

“Come! Come!” Keos hissed one of the few English words he had picked up. He tugged at Iantos arm and pointed toward a tumble of large rocks long overgrown by native flora. With nothing better in mind, Ianto followed Keos lead over the escarpment and onto his knees through a screen of tall weeds and into a space created by leaning, broken stones. The space was small, giving him an opportunity to wrap himself around Keos slender, muscular form. Too bad there wasn’t opportunity for more but the army was upon them. Hooves. Many hooves, but otherwise strangely silent. No voices called out, save for a single voice. A strong, commanding female voice that made Iantos blood go cold.  
Boadicea. Ianto searched his memory of history trying to recall this bit. What other woman of this time period would ride with a full army, let alone raise her voice as of the leader? Boadicea, the Celtic Iceni Queen who lead her men in a thorough sacking of Londinium and a few other settlements in 60 AD or thereabouts. Dear god, Jack, what have you done to me, Ianto wondered? Its bad enough you somehow dumped me more than two thousand years in the past. But here? Now? I could die here, Jack. I cant live again…

     That last thought brought him up short, a sudden hysterical laugh sticking in his throat. Oh yeah. Right. In the struggle to acclimate to this new reality he had all but forgotten. Nothing like fear, hunger and physical discomfort to make a man feel terribly real. Then there was Keos, whose touch had made him feel more alive and more real than he had since arriving in this place. If, perhaps, he sometimes secretly longed for a different mans touch, at least Keos could not know that. And did he long for Jack’s more experienced and knowledgeable touch? Damn straight. But what Keos lacked in experience and knowledge, he well made up for with outright enthusiasm. Keos was limber and creative and didn’t have a shy bone in his body. Though just a few years younger than himself, Keos often made him feel old. 

     Just at that moment the sound of more horses reached them. This time they stopped and Ianto felt Keos tremble in his arms as mens voices drifted into their hiding place. A language Ianto had never heard but a tone he had. Rough voices, some laughter. The sound of a woman weeping and begging. A voice they both recognized from the farm. Keos trembled. He might be uneducated but he wasn’t stupid. He knew what could happen to him should they be discovered. Something very similar to what was happening to Livia the house maid and cooks assistant. 

     Keos crushed himself back against Ianto, hands pressed against his ears. Ianto thought he might be crying but didn’t think badly of him for it. He rather felt like it himself. He had to hear it all. Until then men had had enough and Livias cries were silenced for good under the sickening thuds of fist and club. Then, blessedly, the men were gone. Still Ianto and Keos lay silent in their hiding space for a long time after. Ianto had some thought if checking to see if there was any help for Livia, but in his heart he knew there wasn’t. Keos safety and his own had to be of top importance. They needed to get back to the farm. He feared what they would find there. But even if everyone was dead, they might still find supplies. Otherwise Ianto wasn’t certain how they’d survive. 

     After some time Iano stirred and urged Keos to move. Together they crawled cautiously from hiding. Livias broken naked body lay nearby. Not yet bloated but already attracting flies. And overhead a carrion bird circled. Today there would be a feast for carrion earters, Ianto thought. He looked at Keos who stared at the dead body with an empty expression. He had seen death,of course. In this age death was a constant companion. A fact of life just likely around every corner. A badly broken bone, child birth, a simple accident, a tiny cut, fever, all that and more could bring death within hours or days. Keos had seen death often enough. But the violence Ianto wasn’t certain of. He seemed composed enough now. At least he wasn’t hysterical. Ianto wished he could offer Keos words of comfort, if he could think of any, but Keos wouldn’t understand. Ianto also wished they had time to bury Kivias body as well. But Ianto felt they were pretty much out of time. Who knew how many enemy raiding parties were out and about and they’d been standing there far too long.

     Grasping Keos arm he pulled the younger man into the woods further away from the roadway.  
It was rough going and though their fortuitous outing hadn’t taken them more than a few miles from the farm, returning overland rather than by road was more difficult and took longer. Hiding from an occasional raiding party slowed them further. It was near dark when they drew within a quarter mile if the farm and even at that distance they understood what they would find.  
 

      They approached with stealth, a subdued Keos following Iantos lead without his usual exuberance. The buildings were gone, faint curls of smoke still drifting from a few still hot places. Fences were smashed and bodies lay scattered about. Most of the livestock was loose, either taken or run off. No one appeared to be alive. Once certain they were alone for the time being Ianto made a quick search. But it was as he had thought. All dead. Even the children. Any other time and children and women might have been taken and kept for slaves. Maybe. But these…these were killing parties. Death to the enemy was their goal. Ianto made Keos wait as he searched the carnage. He tried not to see the horrors done to many, particularly the women, and a few of the men. Death had not come quickly for some. 

     Over the smell of blood and death Ianto caught the scent of something usually pleasant. In the charred rubble if the kitchen, in the barely damaged brick oven, Ianto found a round loaf of bread still war, fallen into the cooling ash. Though a bit blackened in places, it was edible . And though the thought of food made Ianto ill at the moment, he knew food might be scarce for awhile. It would be foolish to waste it. He also found a burlap bag and a soot stains, slightly charred blanket. These few bounty he carried back to the place he had left Keos near what had been a stables. The able animals taken of course.  
   

      Ianto was surprised to find Keos clutching a ragged reddish-grey bundle of something that seemed to wiggle with a life of its own. When Ianto approached Keos looked up in momentary terror and the thing in his arms yipped. A dog. Ianto groaned inwardly. He recognized what was normally a hyper ball of white fluff. In the future it would be a breed called Maltese. In this age, particularly here, it was a fairly exotic and rare pet given to Servia Prima, the eldest daughter of his host, Servius Turullius. Both of whom, along with the rest of the family, now lay dead.  
 

      “Put that damn thing down,” Ianto snapped, “We need to get out of here and we’ll be doing good to take care of ourselves. We cant take care of a dog.” Keos may not understand his words but he understood tone – and expression. He looked up at Ianto for a moment, eyes pleading, arms tightening momentarily around the animal. The the younger mans expression collapsed and went blank, body seeming to shrink as he carefully set the animal on the ground then turned to follow Ianto.  
Ianto refused to weaken. They really couldn’t take care of dog. The dog apparently had other ideas. It followed them as Ianto lead Keos into falling night. Nothing Ianto tried drove the creature away. And then it was too late. The sound of hooves brought in riders to the accompaniment of the whoop of victorious voices. Battered blood covered horses and men just as bloodied swept into the farm yard, maybe looking for survivors. 

      “Shit! Run, Keos!” Ianto snapped, though he knew there was little hope if escape. He turned to run, hoping Keos was behind him, but the damed dog was going nuts and Ianto knew… He stumbled to a stop and turned. Keos had paused long enough to pick up the damned dog and was now staggering just barely a head of at least five blood frenzied pursuers. 

     “Run Keos!” Ianto screamed then staggered toward the top of a rise behind the farm house. To his credit Keos kept up damned well but Ianto was fairly certain the riders were laughing at them, playing with them like a cat might play with its prey before the kill. Several more had joined the first group and had fanned out and were circling them as he and Keos reached the top of the hill.  
 

     “Dammit, Jack…” Ianto muttered to himself as he struggled for breath. He was going to die here. Ancient Britannia, 60 AD. Thousands of years before he had been born. Or…before his first birth…well, the second too… Ianto groaned silently again. Was this how he wanted to spend his last moments? Really? He looked to Keos who stood clutching that dog with wide eyed terror. Dammit. He did wish he could have done better by the younger man. 

     "Damn you anyway, Jack Harkness!” Ianto roared out loud, uncaring how insane he might look, “Now would be a good time to get your lily white arse back…” 

      A sudden burst of wind accompanied by a strange pulsing grinding shriek spooked the marauders horses sending them into a frenzy as a familiar blue box appeared half way down the hill. A door opened and a dark head appeared. 

      “You rang…?” Jack said, brow quirked. Ianto gaped a moment. 

     “Fuck you, Jack!” he screamed then he spun back to Keos. The younger man had collapsed to his knees, face so pale Ianto was sure he was about to pass out. But he still held that damned dog. Ianto didn’t hesitate. He slapped Keos, hoping the shock would motivate him. 

     “Get the hell up and run!” Ianto yelled and jerked Keos to his feet. To his credit the younger man did his best to make limbs heavy with shock work with enough coordination to run. But it wasn’t enough. The marauders managed to rally and were bearing down on them again, some between them and the blue box. 

      “Fuck!” Ianto muttered, “Now what…?” A sound from Keos made Ianto turn. The younger man stared at him with something very like shock. 

     “I know your words!” he gasped. “How…?” Ianto was just as stunned to understand Keos for the first time in several months. At the moment there was no time for explanations. They were about to die. Very unpleasantly. Ianto turned back toward the Tardis just as the group of marauders barring their way rushed at them. He moved closer to Keos – as if there were some actual protection he could offer. 

     “Oh, hell no!” he heard Jack shout. A moment later one of their attackers exploded – or, perhaps it was more of an implosion. Or both. Whatever. The man suddenly…wasn’t. He – it – slid from his horses back, a bloody, quivering mass barely recognizable as human. That gave the others pause. One horse screamed and reared, its owner cursing in roundly with references Ianto didn’t entirely understand. Keos made a choked sound and pressed against Ianto, still clutching a now yelping, writhing dog.  
 

      “Stay with me, Keos,” Ianto snapped, “There no time for a faint heart. We are in a shit load of trouble. Jack is finally getting his arse in gear but we have got to be ready…!” He almost choked himself when a second attacker disintegrated. Then a third. That made the attackers pull back. Not running. They weren’t cowards. But they would regroup. Perhaps discuss the portents of whatever gods they followed. They would come again. But that left plenty if time. 

     “Come, lads, your carriage awaits!” Jack shouted from the open Tardis door. “Best now than later. Chop chop. Save fainting and sick up for later!” Ianto grabbed Keos arm and shoved the younger man toward the Tardis. . 

     “Run, Keos!”

 


	8. Chapter 8

Ianto shoved Keos and his ridiculous burden through the door of the Tardis and stumbled through after him. The contrast between outside and inside was, in more ways than one, even with his foreknowledge, so significant Ianto found himself weak kneed and speechless. For Keos it was too much. He let out a choked cry and collapsed as Jack ducked into the Tardis after a couple of final shots at furious marauders, and shut and locked the door. 

“Great legs, Ianto. I have to remember…”

“Fuck you, Jack!” Ianto snarled as he swung about, delivering a solid, fury fueled roundhouse that drove Jack back against the Tardis bulkhead. He sprang back, eyes filled with icy fury as he flexed his jaw. For a moment the two men faced each other in tense silence. Then Jack relaxed. 

“Alright. Ill give you that. I guess I deserved it,” Jack said. 

“You deserve a hell of a lot more than that,, Jack” Ianto spat. “Ancient Rome, for gods sake, Jack!” Jack opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, oddly at a loss for words and with enough grace to look ashamed. 

“There are a lot of things we need to talk about…”

“Not now, Jack,” Ianto said in an icy tone. “Ive got bigger concerns.” He crouched and rolled Keos limp form so he could lift the younger man. “I am taking him to my room.” 

“Ianto! About that…” Jack calked after Ianto’s retreating back. A loud yip drew his attention. “What about the dog?!”

 

Ianto carried Keos up the stairs and along a catwalk toward the door he was certain he remembered lead out of the control room nearest his assigned room. When the door slid open he pulled up short. The corridor was not one he recognized. At. All. 

“What the hell, Jack?” Ianto said, feeling Jack at his heels. 

“A lot of stuff to explain, like I said,” Jack said, “for now, though,…”  He activated a panel on the wall dbd a three dimensional diagram appeared. “This is your room,” Jack touched a room and it lit up, “and we’re here.” He pointed to a spot outside the control room. “Ill get you a portable. Until then, though, I’ll show you to your room. Theres a room right down the corridor that would be perfect for your…friend.” Ianto shook his head. 

“Keos stays with me until he wakes up and has a chance to acclimatize,” Ianto said, “He’s seen a lot of shit in the last few hours and he has had a lot of shocks. Waking up in an advance future culture is not going to improve his mental status. Right now I am struggling.” 

“Fine,” Jack said, “Come on then.” He moved past Ianto, looking at the unconscious man in his arms.

“He’s attractive enough, Ianto, but I didn’t think you went for the kinder look.” 

“Shut your gob, Jack,” Ianto muttered. “And leave him alone,” he added, “He’s traumatized enough and he has actually been there with me.”

The rest of their trek through the Tardis corridors was accomplished in silence. Ianto was too pissed and too shocky to want to speak and he didn’t want to hear anything Jack had to say. Not yet anyway. 

“Here we are,” Jack said stopping before a door in a low lit corridor. He showed Ianto the code to use on a small panel then leaned against the wall as Ianto carried Keos through the door. 

“Ianto? I…” Jack began but Ianto cut him off. 

“Not. Now. Jack,” he said and shut the door, refusing to acknowledge the real look of concern and regret reflected in Jacks expression.

Once inside Ianto was surprised but relieved to find the room was bigger than the one he had awakened in before. The bed was larger too. Carrying Keos to the bed he lay the younger man on top of the duvet that covered the bed. It was a relief to be rid of the younger mans weight. Keos was not a large man, but he was no lightweight either. 

 

Once Keos was laid out Ianto noticed blood smeared across the younger mans cheek and tunic. Had he been hurt? He did a quick search but found nothing more than some bruises and superficial scratches. 

“Must have come from the dog…” Ianto muttered, then straightened. The dog?! Keos would surely want to have the damned animal close when he woke. Turning Ianto hurried to the door hoping Jack hadn’t got far. He was prepared to yell for Jack. Turned out there was no need. Jack still stood in the corridor, a pensive expression on his face that vanished beneath trademark cockiness when Ianto appeared. 

“Couldn’t stay away…”

“Shut it, Jack,” Ianto warned, “I need the dog. Her name is Suria but nearly everyone called her Sury. She’ll be good for Keos when he wakens.” With that Ianto shut the door in Jacks face once again. Moving back to the bed he pushed a lock of dark hair off Keos forehead and looked down at the face that had become rather dear to him in such a short time. Ianto couldn’t deny the resemblance, faint though it was. Dark hair and blue eyes, that was about as far as the physical resemblance. It was more the attitude, the bloody exuberance that tended to get him in more trouble than was necessary, the zest for life, that reminded Ianto of Jack. Keos had the same compassionate nature as well, sans the hard assteel core time and experience had built within Jack. Jack had a darkness in him Keos did not possess. At least not yet. But the resemblance was there for anyone who knew the men to see. Keos was what Ianto imagined Jack might have once been. Before everything that had happened to him. Before…immortality. Before multiple horrific deaths. Before terrible suffering. Before repeated betrayals. Before deep and repeated loss. Before…life without end. 

Yes Keos made him think of a younger Jack in many ways. Ianto could admit it and he wasn’t ashamed of the fact. He and Keos had a mutually beneficial relationship that had been working well for both of them. Ianto felt it was his responsibility to look after Keos until the younger man got his bearings. Only…Ianto turned and slumped onto the edge of the bed, shoulders drooping as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes…how was he to look after Keos when he struggled to get his own bearings? He still felt as if he were trapped in some insane dream, and he had felt that way since first waking in the cells belonging to newest incarnation of Torchwood. Really…and he had had a lot of time to think about this…since he accepted a job with Torchwood One. That was when his life had really started going wonky, even if he hadn’t noticed until the alien attack on Canary Warf and everything that had happened to Lisa. From the moment he had first realized creatures from other worlds truly existed his life had been a surreal roller coaster. Jack – meeting Jack Harkness, knowing him, working for him - had turned out to be one of the more pleasurable but no less wild bits. 

Now, sitting on the edge of a bed in a high tech alien ship with his ancient Roman lover at his side just minutes after very nearly dying in an ancient world, Ianto held his head in his hands, peering into a vast, dark, bottomless chasm. A black void that sucked at him, seeming impossible to escape. He needed to get up, to bathe. The ancients bathing customs were remarkable for their time – but they didn’t have soap. Hot pools, cold pools, steam rooms, warm oil massages and a scrape down with a stirgil by a slave – in his case Keos – had been enjoyably pleasant. But Ianto wanted soap. He needed soap. He also needed to get his ass up and take care of Keos. He needed to find that damn dog. Keos would wake soon and Ianto needed to get up out of this morass of self pity.

Yeah, so he was exhausted. And traumatized. Battered body and soul. So? There were things he needed to do. He had responsibilities. Just like always, Ianto needed to suppress his own issues and take care of business. The deluge of old memories pounding in on top of the more recent ones – well he just had to wait to fall apart over those. Its what Ianto Jones did, was it not? Take care of others needs while ignoring his own?

 


	9. Chapter 9

  
The chasm yawned before Ianto like the gate to hell itself – if one believed in such things. It beckoned him and, though he now knew he didn’t really want to die, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to fight it. He wondered if he were simply going mad – and if it was even worth the fight. He just dared to truly look into that darkness a noise snatched him back from the edge with a jerk. His eyes flew open to find Jack striding through the open door of his room. A door he was quite certain had been closed. Behind Jack came the spare older man Jack called the Doctor. In his arms was a squirming clean white bundle of fur.  
  
“Ever hear of knocking first?!” Ianto demanded irritably, all the while realizing Jack had probably just saved him – again. This time from a possible complete mental break. When he met Jacks gaze it felt as if the other can could see straight into his soul and see the the chasm. Jack’s gaze held knowing and in the knowing understanding and compassion. Then it occurred to Ianto that Jack kind of knew exactly how it must feel, without the escape of either madness or death. He recalled more than once the bleak, haunted expression he caught in Jacks gaze. Somehow Ianto knew that Jack understood exactly how it felt to teeter on the edge of darkness. Flushing slightly Ianto straightened, prepared to snarl at Jack just to preserve normalcy. Then Jack winked, and grinned.

“I thought you might want some supper. Modern food,” Jack said, “to which…” he indicated the bowls, “…curries. Chicken for you, if I remember right, and a kayi korma veggie for your young friend since I wasn’t sure what meat he might or might not like. And coffee. Not as good as yours, but drinkable.”  
  
“And I brought you this…creature,” the Doctor said, “Jack convinced me not to throw it right back out of my ship but its to stay in this room. I wont have puppy piddles all over the corridors.” Ianto nodded agreeably but his eyes were on the food as his stomach growled. Until that moment he hadn’t realized how desperately hungry he was. They hadn’t eaten since early that morning and then just a bit of bread and cheese and a couple of figs.

“Thank you,” he told Jack, “I smells wonderful.” Sury leapt up onto the bed then and began snuffling around Keos still form. The Doctor pointed at it.

“The animal stays in here,” he said then strode out. Jack watched Ianto catefully for a moment.

“Are you okay, Ianto?” he asked setiously, “You looked like you were in a pretty dark place when I walked in.”

“Just tired,” Ianto said with a false smile. “You can imagine running for your lives and nearly being killed can do that.” His stomach rumbled again and Jack nodded and started for the door.

“Enjoy your dinner. Oh…and this,”. He pulled a device out if a pocket. “New diagram for the ship. Theres a pool and a gym if your interested. Theres also a decent conservatory and arboretum.” In that note he walked out leaving Ianto staring after him in astonishment.

“Are they all gone?” whispered a strained voice. Startled Ianto twisted about to look down at Keos. Eyes open and filled with borderline panic stated at him.

“Theyre gone,” Ianto assured him, “How long have you been awake?”

“Awhile,” Keos said. “How…how can I know what your words are? And how can you known my words? Back at…before… We could not know each others words then.” Ianto tried to smile reassuringly.

“Its hard to explain but… It’s a property of this…ship, Ianto said. Keos frowned.  
  
“Ship?”

Ianto frowned. How did he explain. Keos wouldn’t understand space flight so what the hell did he say?

“How about lets go with ‘villa,” Ianto said. “The, ah…the villa has special properties that allow strangers to understand one another.” Keos was sikent so long Ianto turned to look at him. The younger man looked uncomfortable.

“Like magic?” Keos asked. “Witchcraft?”

“Sort of,” Ianto said, “Not exactly but, kinda like that.” Since Ianto didn’t even understand how it worked he figured it was better to agree.

“So we are in the villa of a witch?” Keos asked. A laugh exploded frim Ianto at the thought of Jack or his Doctor as witches. Though that Doctor… There was just something odd there…

“No. I mean, not really,” Ianto said, still smiling. The ship…villa belongs to Jacks friend, the Doctor.”

“Jack?”

“He’s…he was the younger man here earlier. And the older man was the Doctor.” Keos stared at him long and hard. For someone so young he was uncomfortably perceptive and Ianto tried not to meet his gaze.

“Who is this Jack?” Keos asked quietly. “Is he your lover?” Ianto blushed at that.

“I..he is…was my boss.”  
  
“I don’t know ‘boss’,” Keos said.

Ianto hesitated, devating what to say, how to explain. He didn’t want to use ‘master’ though that would be the easiest interpretation.

“How about patronus,” Ianto said, “Jack is sort of my patronus and the Doctor is sort of his patronus.”

“And do you provide sexual favor for your patronus?” Keos demanded, “Some do?” Ianto blushed but nodded.

“I guess I do…or did. A long time ago. We have been…separated for a long time,” Ianto answered.

Keos cuddled Sury against his chest with a disgruntled expression. His discontent was short lived, however. HE was naturally a cheerful young man and, being raised a slave, knew not to let his discontent with his betters show. Not that Ianto was his better. At least not by Ianto’s reckoning. Keos indoctrination might mean he saw it differently. Whatever the case, Keos gave Ianto a long solemn look.

“You have had many lovers?” Ianto blushed yet again. Unlike Jack, he wasn’t entirely comfortable talking about his sexual experiences, or lack there of.

“Not so many,” he muttered. He didn’t have to ask about Keos experience. He knew the younger man had been used for the first time at an age young enough it would have been illegal in the modern day. Keos had talked openly about it during their time together. He had thought Iantos angry reaction on his behalf remarkable. Keos knew many lovers, both willingly and unwillingly. That Ianto had had his own he seemed willing to accept once he was used to the thought.

“And Jack? He provides sexual favor for his patronus?” That Jack didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Especially now. He remembered, vaguely, that Jacks Doctor had looked different in the past. Younger. The thought of Jack having sex with this old man gave Ianto the willies. It didn’t bear thinking about.

“I don’t know,” Ianto muttered. His stomach growled just then and Keos growled in return. Perfect timing. “Come on. Jack brought food. We need to eat before it gets cold. Then we shower.”

Keos sat up slowly as Ianto stood and moved to the table. After a moment Keos stood and moved hesitantly after him.

“What is is?” he asked, looking at the food.

“It’s called curry,” Ianto said, “Sort of a thick vegetable based broth over a grain called rice. Mine has chicken. Yours is vegetarian. That means it has chunks of vegetables instead of meat and probably a veggie based broth. The drink I called coffee.” Keos set Sury down and settled into a chair. He started to pick up the bowl in two hands until he noticed Ianto using a spoon. “Spoon,” Ianto said, waving the utensil. He demonstrated its use as Keos watched. Then the younger man picked up his own spoon and awkwardly managed a bite. His eyes immediately widened, his face going red. He coughed.

“Yeah. I know. Jack really likes the spice,” Ianto said. He ate several more bites of his but Keos only choked down one more bite then tried the coffee which he also didn’t seem to care for.

“Don’t worry. After we get cleaned up we’ll go find the kitchen and find something you will like.”

  
After a few more bites with Keos watching him Ianto set his spoon down and took a swing of coffee. Lunch would wait.

“Bath time,” Ianto announced. Keos looked mildly alarmed.

“You have a Bath? Inside the villa?” he asked, “Surely slaves are not…”

“You are not a salve here, Keos,” Ianto said sharply, “Our society does not have slaves.” Keos stared at him blankly, as if such a happenstance was impossible for him to imagine.

“How… How are things accomplished here then?” he demanded, “Who serves and cleans and repairs things?” Ianto sighed.

“Never mind, Keos. Just…here you aren’t…” Ianto searched for an explanation without being required to go into a whole big so sociopolitical explanation, “ You’re a freedman, alright? How about that? You aren’t a slave anymore. You are a freedman.” Keos stared at him with wide eyed uncertainty.

“A freedman? You have given me my freedom?” he half whispered in a thick, awed voice. “But I do not have the price…”

“They gave you to me which means I was your master. I can choose to free you, price or no. I chose to free you. That is our way,” Ianto insisted. Keos continued to stare and, for a moment, he was afraid the young man was beginning to get misty eyed. He braced himself for an embrace, or some such. Instead Keos drew in a shaky breath and bowed his head.

“Thank you, Master Ianto.”

“Except Im not your master anymore, Keosl” Ianto said firmly, “ I guess Im your…patronus now. Just call me Ianto. Now…we both stink so lets get that damned bath. Then we’ll find the kitchen.”

Ianto lead the way to the door he hoped lead to the bath. Luckily he chose right and a narrow passage lead to a larger stall than his last room had.

“This is the…latrine,” he said after opening a door. “You can sit or stand to do your business. Then you…” he paused and frowned as he realized he saw no toilet paper. He did see some buttons and as Keos watched he pressed one with a water symbol beside it. He was quite as amazed as Keos as they both watched as a device extended from the edge of the toilet and squirted water into the air. Then a more robust stream spouted upward. That device then retracted and a second extended and warm air burst forth. Then the toilet flushed. “Um…then you do that,” Ianto said, “it, uh, cleans your arse.” Ianto patted his ass to demonstrate. Keos looked equally fascinated and horrified. “Um, yeah. Come on then.”

He lead the way out of the toilet and through into a small dressing area with shelves and benches and several storage areas.

“Here we are, then,” Ianto said and after a moments hesitation he stripped out of his tunic and sandals and a loin cloth he was more than delighted to be rid of. He found what he hoped was a laundry chute and tossed the pile of wool and linen in then turned to Keos. He very nearly swallowed his tongue. He had bedded Keos many times over the last month but he never got over being stunned by the younger mans beauty. Keos was gorgeous. Ianto knew he was no were near comparable. Not even with the weight he had lost and the strength he had gained could he ever compare.

Keos grinned. “We can have some fun in the Baths, yes?” Keos asked, “You are as interested as I.”

“God, yes,” Ianto gasped, “Come on!”

 

 

  



	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto introduces Keos to modern baths.

As Keos watched with curious awe as Ianto waved his hand over a wall pad and a door slid open. 

“Magic,” he muttered. As he followed Ianto hesitantly through the door. They stepped through into a short corridor where Ianto pulled open a door to their right revealing neatly folded linens, all white, stacked on several shelves. 

“Towels,” Ianto said and pulled down two towels and two wash cloths which he handed to Keos. The next door along revealed a toilet. 

“Here we are,” Ianto said, “See?” Keos squeezed by Ianto and eyed the toilet bowl.

“What is it?” he asked uncertainly. 

“A toilet,” Ianto said, “Like a latrine only way better.” Keos looked at it doubtfully. 

“It does not look very much like a latrine.”

“Not like you know back in Londinium, no,” Ianto agree, “But you sit on it and do your business just like…at home. Your home.”

“Okay,” Keos said but he didn’t sound convinced. Ianto toyed with a small control panel to one side of the toilet bowl and a small automated arm extended from under the seat inside the bowl rim. Press another button and a spray of water spewed out. Keos jumped and stared at it in surprise. 

“That is how you clean your arse,”Ianto said, showing him the controls. Keos expression darkened. 

“There is no sponge?” 

“No. Much much more sanitary,” Ianto said. “The water sprays your arse and cleans it.” Keos expression said plenty about what he thought of that but he stayed silent. 

“Okay. So…then after you get your arse clean you have to…wait…its automated I think.” He waved his hand in front of a spot at the back of the toilet and there was a near silent rush as the water suddenly swirled away out of the bowl. Keos was mesmerized, and not entirely in a good way. 

“What did it do?” he whispered. 

“Same place as in Londinium,” Ianto said, “the…ah, the sewer, theres just a…a sort of mechanical barrier between here and the sewer. Prevents smells and sewer gasses.” Keos looked more than a little dazed. 

“It does not smell so bad as the latrine,” he said softly. 

“Right. So, next exhibit,” Ianto said, grasping his arm to pull him back into the corridor and through another door into a small vestibule where warm air automatically swirled around him in an arid storm. Keos froze on the threshold, eyes wide. Despite his cheer of the moment before, his expression held a mix of awe and fear. 

“Such a fierce wind inside a chamber?! Where can it come from?” he half whispered. Ianto smiled. 

“The air is for drying when we are done. It comes from vent in the walls from the heater…the hypocaust.”

“It must be a grand hypocaust to blow with such strength!” Keos said. Ianto humored him for the moment. He would have plenty of time for learning and he had many more surprises ahead of him. Ianto showed him how to operate two sinks that slid from the wall with a wave of a hand, and back again.

“Now bath time,” Ianto said and started to undress, quickly stripping off his filthy bloody tunic and loin cloth. Keos hesitated only a moment before happily following suit. Ianto watched with appreciation as Keos, well aware of Ianto’s interest, gave him a bit of a show. Once undressed the younger man moved up against Ianto, rutting against his hip.

“You want?” he asked. What could Ianto say? He definitely wanted. He couldn’t hide it. And just as they had for the past many weeks, Ianto struggled with the confusing combination of guilt and lust and affection he felt every time he shagged Keos. Guilt because it was Jack he thought of more often than the man he had under him.

Keos as always was wild and passionate and skilled, leaving them both panting happily and fully sated. They lay on the floor for a long moment after the Ianto got up and Keos followed, He grasped Ianto’s head and kissed him, a skill all Romans had bern particularly adept at. It had been one of the more interesting parts of Roman society he’d struggled with. Everyone kissed everyone all the time. Some, like Keos, were particularly adept.

“Alright,” Ianto said hoarsely after managing to break away, “We do need to get cleaned up. Jack will come looking for us otherwise.” Keos grin was wicked.

“This would be bad?”

Ianto sighed softly but didn’t answer. How could he explain to Keos, a man from a culture much freer and open about sex... Oh, god! Had Jack been like this in his younger years? Before literally centuries of endless life and suffering had honed sharper edges and secret places? Keos did remind him of Jack, that he couldn’t deny and it was part of his guilt. He looked at Keos with a serious expression.

“Jack is mine. Sort of.” Ianto knew Jack had had many partners and lovers and he wasn’t naïve enough to believe Jack had stayed celibate after Ianto’s death. Fifty years. Ianto doubted he had waited more than a few days. Toward the end he had never doubted Jack’s love for him. He was even fairly certain Jack had don’t nothing but flirt outrageously when they were together. But Jack had loved many people in his life and would love many more. Sex was a recreation for him. But he was also loyal as hell to those he cared about. And so was he. He wouldn’t share Jack. Not even with Keos. A thought that caused new guilt to swamp him because he certainly hadn’t been loyal to Jack the past three months. Or now. Shit.

“Come on. Lets get that bath,” he muttered and moved out of the dressing area. Then they moved through into an artfully tiled room which Keos examined with a critical eye. 

“No story,” he murmured, “just colors. But such colors!” While Keos gazed in awe at the shower room with its false skylight in the ceiling, Ianto managed a smile.

“Water on. Gentle rain. Warm,” he said. Immediately water fell from the ceiling making Keos sputter. Ianto laughed. Keos seemed unfazed by that. He stared up at the ceiling in awed delight this time, though it was still tinged with a touch of fear. 

“Water from the roof, like rain!” he gasped, “It is incredible! But how? Is it magic?” Keos looked at Ianto. “Or are you truly a god!? All this you have shown me…with a wave of the hand or a crook of the finger…” Ianto groaned. Not that again. How was he going to convince Keos he was not a roman god? How could he explain technology to a man from the back waters of the first century?

“Im not a god, Keos. But i’m not sure how to explain voice controls and computers to you. Just…there are pipes that bring the water in from…a reservoir. Like an aqueduct. Sort of.”

“And it comes from the pipes on command?” Keos asked. Ianto shrugged. 

“More or less, yes.”

“Then you must be a god,” Keos said, “Or a magician!” This last was said with almost more awe than being a god. 

“Magician,” Ianto said with a sigh, “Sure. Yeah. Lets go with that.” Ianto figured if Jack heard that description of him, his laughter would be less brutal than hearing him called a god. 

He moved to the wall to fill his hands with soap from soap dispensers that slid out of the wall, more ‘magic’ for Keos. He helped Keos with his back and his hair and Keos helped him, which lead to more interesting bathing techniques depite Ianto’s guilt. Some significant time later, finally clean and sated, Ianto lead Keos back out of the shower where the younger man’s natural delight in life had begun to reassert itself over the effects of culture shock, at least for the moment. He had delighted in the warm ‘rain’ of the shower and he delighted in the maelstrom of warm air in the drying room made him laugh. It reminded Ianto of how young Keos really was despite his sexual experience and skill.

They had almost ten years between them, Ianto thought. Or well over two thousand years, he supposed as memory flooded back again. He had forgotten. 

“Ianto?” Keos warm, hard body pressed against him again. Comforting. Wanting. A few minutes later they required the shower and drying room again. It took quite a bit of time for them to finally leave the bathroom. It was a surprise Jack didn’t come after them.


End file.
